


The Wild Breathes Back

by Azelda_Scroggs (Azalea_Scroggs)



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: (a horse ride - badum-tsss), (hopefully), (you can't tell me it's not true), Canon Compliant, Crack Treated Seriously, Does not take the sequel or the DLC into account, Enemies to Friends, Ganondorf Redemption, Gen, Horse Girl Link, I mean it I'm an angst writer there will be angst, I've never written anything like this but I think we're in for a ride, In Which Ganondorf Reincarnates As His Horse, Link (Legend of Zelda) Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:22:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28629498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azalea_Scroggs/pseuds/Azelda_Scroggs
Summary: He was the last of his kind, a majestic horse that towered at twice the size of the others of his herd. The memories were odd, for sure; he wasn't sure it was exactly common to remember old lives where one was a human king of the desert, burdened with too much hatred even for his massive body. None of it was supposed to change his life, though. He was happy in his grassland.Then the boy showed up.
Relationships: Ganondorf & Link (Legend of Zelda), Link & Giant Horse (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 35





	The Wild Breathes Back

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I have no idea what I'm doing.
> 
> Updates will be sporadic because I'm a slow writer. Huge thanks to [Mokulule](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mokulule), [ArdentAspen2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArdentAspen2) (who gave this fic its title, because I never can) and [KaelinaLovesLomaris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelinaLovesLomaris) for encouraging this craziness, giving me ideas, and otherwise egging me on.
> 
> Chapter titles are by [SpellCleaver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpellCleaver), who is a pun genius.
> 
> The word "Lihstr" meaning horse in OoT Gerudo comes from Va Ehenihv, a conlang I found on [this website](http://www.va-eheniv.conlang.org/gerudolang1.html).
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Memory came back to him in the desert.

He wasn't sure how he'd ended up there in the first place, on a barren plateau. He'd always been the most adventurous of his herd. The length of his legs probably helped that, as he stood twice as tall as all the other horses.

In any case, he'd been there, on top of a mesa that towered above miles and miles of sand, when he'd heard the thunder rumbling. He'd started to head back to his native grassland and its gigantic trees, but hadn't managed to do so before lightning struck not even a foot away from him. He screamed and reared as a thousand foreign images overcame him at once, as potent as the electrical current that had nearly touched him.

It was fitting that the Gerudo Highlands be the place to reawaken the Gerudo King's old lives in him.

A thousand lifetimes of hatred, destruction and death; a thousand defeats by a pair of wheat-haired children. A burning rage that didn't always feel completely like his own. A desperate bid for power, spun by a helplessness he didn't understand the origin of. A need to prove himself to everybody who was lesser than him.

He stood there, as still as prey that had smelled a predator, as he took it all in. This man was him, this man had been him, this man was as remote and foreign as all the humans living on the other side of the hill.

Humans led too complicated lives for his taste.

He snorted, and headed down the path that led back to his herd.

—

Life as a horse was simple and restful. He ate, he roamed, he slept, free as the hot wind that blew in the plain, surrounded by rocks too tall to climb.

As such, there was no need for him to dwell on the memories. They felt more like bad dreams than actual events he had lived, for all that he knew instinctively that they were true. They belonged to him, and they didn't at the same time. He didn't recognise himself in them.

What they gave him was names. His home prairie surrounded by cliffs was called Taobab Grasslands; the wide country beyond was Hyrule.

Only the speaking races used words. A horse saw another horse, and recognised him; it grazed in the grass, and knew its taste. Nothing more was needed. But the thunder had brought him memories of language. Sometimes he lifted his head and looked at the sky and thought _blue;_ he breathed in the wind and thought _South._ He knew the humans called themselves _Hylian_ or _Gerudo,_ and also that there were three other speaking races in the land, _Gorons_ and _Rito_ and _Zora_ , although he had never seen any of them.

The king he'd once been was named Ganondorf, and had ridden a horse much like himself.

He had been cursed, even though he hadn't known it at the time. Something called to him even now, an old and malevolent thing that didn't have a name, not even in the human languages, although they tried to give it one – _Demise, Calamity_ , and none of it was right. He supposed it should have been frightening, but horses didn't use words anyway. So he simply ignored it. It wasn't too hard to do so, as the entity seemed far away, as distant from him as the king Ganondorf. He doubted the thing would have any use for a horse, anyway, and it was much better like that. So he ran in the field and explored and enjoyed his horse life, ignoring the troubles of the past.

That is, until the boy showed up.

He didn't see him at first. Crouching in the tall grass, coming at him from behind, the only hint of his presence was the soft clinking of a shield against a sword. He looked around and met the boy's eyes, the both of them freezing.

A tiny Hylian shape, slim and small. Ice blue eyes, wide open in surprise. A dark hood concealing golden hair and pointed ears. Unknown, familiar features staring at his own. He'd never seen him; he knew who he was, and he cursed fate.

_No you don't._

Instinct moved him and he kicked the boy, sending him sprawling to the ground with a grunt before running a bit further.

He bore no ill will towards the small Hylian – _why would he? –_ but he wasn't interested in having anything to do with him, either. Humans were complicated. He liked his simple life. He wasn't a lynel; let the boy just go away, and he would walk unharmed.

_No battle to the death –_

_No darkness-sealing sword –_

_No battered and bloodied child bearing the final blow –_

A weight fell on his body, and he let out a loud, throaty squeal, rearing as high as he could. 

The boy held on. He ran, jumped, tried to dislodge him, overcame with a rage and a fury half-instinctive and half older than that. 

_You won't seal me away again – won't place yet another yoke on me – I will be victorious –_

He jerked his head left and right, bucked to destabilise him. The boy was leaning forward in precarious balance, strong rider's thighs squeezing his back, and he whispered soothing words in his ear that he barely heard. He was possessed, beside himself; he felt as if it was summer and a particularly frightful and annoying insect was flying around his head, one he desperately wanted to see gone.

The boy had to fall at some point, then he'd trample him underfoot and run – 

_I will crush you – beat you within an inch of your life – use the Power to bring you to your knees –_

“Hooooo, hooo, shhhh...”

The boy's hand slid through his mane and scratched him in the middle of his neck. The sensation was heavenly; despite his will, he felt himself melt a little. 

_You will fall, hero, you will yield and you will die –_

The boy was still murmuring calming nothings in his ear and rubbing his skin. He leant into it, his heartbeat slowing down, his struggles abating. 

“There... there...”

He panted, tried to catch his breath after the struggle. The boy was clearly a skilled rider, with the way he held on. For now, he was tired, but as soon as he regained his energy, he would throw the boy off his back. Besides, he'd have the advantage of surprise. 

Unexpectedly, before he had time to go any further on those musings, the boy slipped to the ground in a light, graceful movement. Still holding on to his mane, he shuffled in his pockets for a moment and held out a bright red, juicy apple.

Boy and horse looked at each other for a moment. He tilted his head, pushed his ears backwards in intimidation; the boy showed no sign of fear, holding out the fruit on his open palm.

He hadn't seen many humans, but this boy seemed even tinier than they were on average.

He sighed, then with a sudden movement of the head, took the apple in his mouth and began munching on it. It burst with sweet juice on his tongue, and he couldn't repress his contentment.

The boy's posture relaxed, and he stretched his lips – smiled – in a way that should have been peculiar but seemed much too bright to his human memories to communicate anything but happiness. He relented.

Let the boy enjoy a false sense of safety. He barely weighed anything; a well-timed buck when he least expected it would do the job fine, there was no need to hurry.

Hesitantly at first, then with more confidence, the boy rubbed the bridge of his nose. He didn't try to bite him.

—

The only way out of the Taobab Grassland was to the south. He'd wandered there a few times to explore, carefully, making sure to be high enough on the hills in order not to cross the lynels' territory.

Which was exactly where the boy seemed to be headed.

The foolish child didn't have any idea, did he, of what the monster was like. The beast was savage, had killed more than one horse of his herd. The boy's unawareness would get the both of them dead if he did nothing –

An idea formed into his mind. The lynels were aggressive and territorial, with devastating weapons. A puny Hylian held no chance against it. Were he to drop him close to it...

Well, it would be risky, as it would require him approaching as well. And he had to be able to get the boy off his back, which up until now had been a fruitless endeavour. But if it worked... the boy would no longer bother him, that was for sure.

It was worth the risk.

He continued on his path, making sure nothing in his behaviour let the boy know of his intentions. The Hylian must have had some idea of what he was up against or seen the lynel's shape in the distance, for he tried to veer to the left, away from the threat. That wouldn't do. He kept trotting forward, turning a deaf ear to the boy's wordless protests, the squeezes of his thighs and the way he pulled on his mane.

And then, as the commands became more frantic, he broke out into a gallop.

Triumph washed over him as the boy's seating jolted. A violent change of direction later, the little Hylian yelled and fell face down into the grass.

His back a little lighter, although his rider really hadn't weighed much, he ran away from the lynel's path. Sure enough, when he glanced back after reaching safety, the beast was advancing towards the boy with his massive crusher in hand, ready to slaughter him.

Certain of the boy's fate, he should have returned to the grassland and got as far from the fight as he could. But morbid curiosity kept his eyes trained on the sight before him as he was overcame by a strange bloodlust.

Tiny, disoriented, the Hylian was sure to be cut down in no time. He wanted to witness his agony, wanted to see the monster tear his flesh apart, wanted to watch the small body writhe in pain then fall motionless to the ground, red blood staining the grass.

_He would crush him –_

_Grind him into dust –_

_The boy would no longer defy him –_

Except that wasn't what was happening. His eyes went wide as he understood the events unfolding in front of him.

After barely rolling out of the way of the first attack, the boy got to his feet. In the same movement, he drew a rusty broadsword and a wooden shield, just in time to parry the lynel's next blow.

He was transfixed, but no longer for the same reason.

The boy was _fast._ He was close to the lynel, so close, inches away from each strike of the massive sword as he avoided them and counter-attacked. His eyes could barely track his movements as he jumped, twirled, did _backflips_ –

He should have expected it. This boy was the _damn Chosen Hero._ Why had he ever thought a mere lynel would be enough to defeat him when he himself had never –

_What?_

Wait. Wait.

He'd never fought the boy.

He shook his head, trying to dispel the confusion. It was the memories again, wasn't it? The feelings, the images, the words that came to his mind were too intense, too disorienting, he didn't understand –

All he knew was the _hatred_ , the desire to see him _dead_ –

– _his body lying prone at his feet, where he belonged –_

Then the fight was over. The lynel was lying there defeated, and the boy was picking up its weapons, weighing a sword that was twice as tall as him before strapping it to his back.

He stared at him. Suddenly the small Hylian seemed terrifying. His lithe and fragile body was nothing but a deception, designed to make his enemies underestimate him.

How was that _fair?!_

The boy raised his eyes, grinned upon seeing him, and he froze in terror.

He should have fled. That had been his very last chance to get back home, and he'd squandered it in his shock. By the time the thought reached him, it was too late. The boy hopped on his back again with an affectionate pat on the shoulder then clicked his tongue to order him forward, as if nothing had happened.

And he, the fool, the utter idiot, obeyed, too stunned to do anything else.

—

There were mounted bokoblins on the hill. He remembered them, for earlier in the year they had tried to capture horses from his herd. Thankfully, he'd been there and had driven them all away, terrified and a bit less numerous than they had come.

Nonetheless, as much as he hated to admit it, it _was_ satisfying to see the boy cut them down on his way without even thinking.

They rode for about half a day, reaching a field he hadn't seen before. He had never ventured that far away from home. He would certainly have remembered it if he had, with the tent standing in the middle of it, a huge horse head towering above even the trees.

It was ugly.

The boy made his way there, following the road into the enclosure, then dismounted to talk to the man at the desk. 

“... register a horse?”

“... rupees for the saddle and bridle...”

His ears flicked at these words. _Ohhhh, no._ That was out of the question.

He sneered at the stable hands, a woman and the man from behind the counter, when they approached him.

“He's really huge,” the man said. “I'm not sure we have gear that fit him.”

He relaxed at these words. Of course they wouldn't. He had never seen another horse as tall as he was, and he doubted these Hylians had, either, judging from the reaction of a man on the road that had wanted to examine him. He'd walk free for sure.

“Oh, wait a second...”

The woman rushed back into the tent, only to come back a few moments later with a dark red leather saddle twice as big as the regular ones he'd seen, and a long, thick bridle, adorned with a piece of amber on the piece supposed to go over his nose.

He stared at it for a moment. The whole gear seemed quite old, although it was still in good shape, probably from a lack of use. It looked... familiar, somehow.

“We've had this thing for ages, I think it was a Gerudo woman who sold it to my grandfather back in the day, claiming she didn't have much use for it. I don't think we've used it once since because of how big it is... it seems the right size.”

She looked at the boy for assent, and he nodded.

He snorted, tapped the ground with his hoof.

No. _Way._

The woman advanced, armed with a brush in each hand. He turned away, jerked his head so she couldn't access his mane. She had to tiptoe to reach him, anyway. It was laughably easy to avoid her.

“Hey, big one,” she tried soothing him. “I'm a friend.”

He huffed at her, avoided another swipe of the brush. He didn't have _friends,_ certainly not friends who tried to put a saddle on him.

When she next came near him, he put his head down against hers and pushed. She fell down on her backside in the grass.

“Padok!” she called. “Come help!”

The man came closer.

“I need you to soothe him while I groom him,” she said.

He was wryly amused at that, as the other Hylian wasn't much taller than she was. It would be funny to see them try to restrain him.

He held still for a moment, observing their wariness with a twinkle in his eye.

The man came up to him and reached up as high as he could to stroke his neck.

“It's okay, it's okay,” he said in a low voice, while the woman started brushing his back.

He stayed still, silent and nice, breathing silently.

“That's good. You're being a good horse, you know that?”

A pad was being put on his back. Then another weight –

And he jerked his croup to the side.

The woman fell down with a startled cry. The pad and the saddle fell just in front of her feet. She swore under her breath, her frustrated eyes meeting his smug gaze.

“You really don't want this, do you?” she said as she rose, reaching a placating hand towards him. Her voice was soft, soothing. “You don't need to be afraid. Nobody's going to hurt you.”

He snorted again, blowing air forcefully through his nostrils. Did she think it was fear that made him refuse the gear?

Of course she did. He was a horse; horses had little reason not to want things besides fear and pain. These wild emotions going through him, he himself wasn't sure where they came from. They had been all over the place since meeting the boy, far more complicated and overwhelming than he was used to.

Being saddled felt like a defeat. It was a battle of wills between him and the handlers, as if they somehow were another stallion trying to establish dominance.

Besides, it was too much fun to see them squirm _._

They tried again, still giving him the same irritating placating noises. They were little more than bugs in his space. Fed up, he bucked and kicked, snarling at the Hylians and satisfied at their alarmed cries.

Then there was a hand on his chest, another on his neck. Not restraining – he doubt any of them had that power – but present.

“Hey... hey...”

He snorted, looked down. It was the boy, of course. Standing on his tiptoes in order to reach him, completely at his mercy if he decided to rear and throw him off-balance, he was looking at him through these unreadable ice blue eyes.

His hand moved up to the bridge of his nose.

“You're gonna be just fine, you know?” he said. The rubbing motion was soothing. The boy was so taut, his balance precarious, his body strained upwards to reach him; it was fascinating to see him like this, so vulnerable, so open. It was a side of the hero he had never seen before...

How easy it would be, to take advantage of him now. He basked in the potential, in the image of the frail body reaching out towards him, in more danger than he realised.

“I just want to take you on a journey, a long journey all across Hyrule,” the boy kept whispering. Mesmerised, he brought his head closer down, but the boy didn't seem scared, smiling at him instead.

“We're going to see many wonderful things. This land... it's so beautiful, you know. You only know such a small part of it... there are mountains, and deserts, and seas, and vast fields where you can gallop for as long as you like. So many hidden treasures neither you nor I know... don't you want to come with me? discover all that? It can all be ours...”

The young man's voice was soft, hesitant, barely audible. He was stunned. The few words he vaguely recalled him saying in their past lives were all defiant and most of all scarce. He was more used to his cries of pain...

Turbulent feelings rose in his chest, envy and jealousy and boundless curiosity. The king Ganondorf, in whatever era, had always coveted Hyrule. He burned to see it, to get a taste of the wonders that had caused so much pain and strife to the man he had once been...

Yes, the hero's offer was more tempting than his pride wanted to let him admit.

Without realising, he leant into the boy's caress, letting himself relax into the movement of his hand. Soon there was a brush in his mane, repetitive strokes that lulled him into a lethargic state, before going down his shoulders, and back, and tail.

He didn't move, this time, when the pad was put on him, nor when he felt the weight of leather settle on his back. The metal in his mouth made him sneer, uncomfortable but bearable. He would get used to it.

His job done, the boy's hand came back to stroke his neck.

“How are you going to name him?” the man asked.

He rolled his eyes. Humans and their obsessions with names.

The boy tilted his head, and looked at him, thinking.

“Lihstr,” he murmured.

That broke the moment. He couldn't help but snort.

 _Lihstr._ Oh, the irony. Where the heck had he picked up _that_ name?

The word meant “horse” in old Gerudo, in his past incarnations' native language. The goddesses' sense of humour knew no bound, it seemed. How did the boy even know it? Did he have any idea of what he was doing?

No. Of course he didn't. He was the _hero,_ Hylian and ignorant through and through. He didn't need to know this particular boy to know that. His Triforce piece wasn't wisdom, after all.

Lihstr. He mulled the name over in his mind. It was strange, superfluous, unneeded, like the bit in his mouth, and yet it evoked powerful nostalgia in him. He supposed he would have to get used to it, too.

“That's a pretty name,” the man of the stable said, visibly as clueless as the boy.

The hero shrugged.

—

Unlike he had thought, the boy didn't take shelter in the stable for the night. He took a look at the sky, his hand sheltering his eyes as he raised them towards the declining sun, then thanked the stable hands and jumped on his back before issuing a click of the tongue. Lihstr launched into a trot, following the path. The boy didn't try to slow him down or to urge him forward, so he kept going at his preferred pace.

They went through a thick and verdant forest, practically vibrating with green. He had never known such dense vegetation existed; instead of towering above their heads, branches and leaves were surrounding them, with twigs and moss covering the ground, until they could barely see the sky. It wasn't always easy to find the path, and once or twice he let himself be distracted by the strange scenery before the boy gently but firmly redirected him.

The green reminded him of an ancient time, of another forest. An old tree that had died at his hand without relinquishing the relic he sought; a hero clad in the very same shade, brandishing a sword that brought death and imprisonment.

But the birds sang, and the bugs flew, and the wind rustled in the branches. Not even the sombre memories could cover the overwhelming sense of peace, of life, of growth that reigned here.

They rode without stopping as the sun came down towards the horizon. It had been a long time since he'd moved for so many hours, as he had never really needed to go so far. The bit chafed in his mouth, foreign behind his teeth. But the boy on his back didn't weigh anything, and the exertion in his muscles felt good.

It was still a certain relief when they stopped next to the hugest stretch of water he had ever seen. The sun had set for some time when the boy slowed them down, hopped down from his back with barely a sound before sneaking into a bokoblin camp. There were the sounds of battle, beasts taken by surprise and falling one after the other, before the Hylian reappeared, looking a little out of breath but without a scratch.

Had he still had a human mouth, he would have chuckled in glee at the irony. The legendary Hero, slaughtering living beings in their sleep to steal their camp. Where was the heroism, the nobility in that? Where was his moral high ground? He, too, had only ever wanted both him and his people to survive.

This hero, it seemed, was no better than him. It was only his race and the favour of a goddess that allowed him victory.

If victory there was. It hadn't always been guaranteed... he had triumphed over him before. Had he still had human hands, he could have cut his throat with his own sword, so carelessly left next to him as he rested. Or he could stomp him with his hooves...

“Hey, no,” the boy snapped, blanching as he pulled on the reins to take him away from a bright red barrel with a skull on it. He snorted. It was way too easy to frighten the fool.

He relaxed somewhat as the boy tied him to one of the rudimentary structures and began relieving him of the gear. The brush drifted through his mane, on his neck, on his back, and he leant into the sensation, relaxing despite himself. It was incredible how soothing these movements were...

There would be time for all of that later. Right now, there was a loose rope around his neck, preventing him from running off. It would be counter-productive to kill the boy now.

Besides, he still wanted to see more of Hyrule.

And yet. He swung his tail. The urges had diminished, but not disappeared. He was in need of mischief, wanted to annoy his rider if not harm him.

The boy gave him water to drink, and that's when the idea came to him. He drank, but not all of it. Biding his time.

Indeed, after taking care of him, the boy moved to settle down himself. He sat by the fire, letting out a groan of relief, stretching his hands out towards the warm light to ward off the chill of the night.

He came closer. The rope around his neck was long, allowed him to move nearly as he pleased. The boy didn't pay much attention to him, barely sparing him a glance before he took hold of the seared meat the monsters had left behind.

Until he spit the water he'd kept in his mouth on the fire.

The boy jumped, let out a shriek. His meat fell onto the ground.

He couldn't help the snort of amusement, the smug shake of the head as he beheld the dripping, miserable, pitiful hero glaring at him. The young man threw a shattered look at the now-extinct and wet firewood, glared at him again, then huffed and turned towards his pack.

He watched as the boy took off his hood then his tunic, shivering as he put on another shirt, which was ragged and worn thin. Then he laid out his wet clothes on the log to dry, taking great care not to put them in his reach, he couldn't help notice. Once all of that was done, the young man plopped down on the ground, picked up the meat, dusted it off a little before eating it in the dark.

If his glare could have lighted a fire, the whole bokoblin platform would have been aflame.

When the boy finished eating, he rose and surveyed the ground for a while, frowning. He took a few steps back and forth, circling as if he was looking for something. Then he sighed, sat down, and curled up on the dirt, keeping his arms tight around himself, without even a blanket.

He blinked. Didn't he have a bedroll? Was that really how humans slept? That wasn't what he seemed to remember, but then, memories of his past lives were fuzzy. It didn't seem comfortable, in any case, if the tightness in his shoulders was any indication.

Again he was struck by how young the hero looked, how deceptively small, with his golden hair messily tied behind his head, ponytail poking up in his sleep. It stirred something in him that he couldn't name.

He was really just a boy, wasn't he. So trusting. So confident in his mount's good intentions, despite the trick he just played on him. It was... fascinating, to see this side of him. He couldn't get enough of it, to know the hero was, for once, entirely in his power, and he had no idea.

He walked as far as he could within the length of the rope, and started grazing.


End file.
